Accidentally
by ForbiddenLoverxxx
Summary: Sherlock Holmes and John Watson shared a flat. Sherlock was all about Science of Deduction. So John learned to deduce: Sherlock was fond of sheet? Sherlock was Johnsexual? Sherlock had a heart? UPDATE: Ch.2
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Bond and Love scenes taken from The Adventure of The Speckled Band and The Adventure of The Three Garridebs. (par.8 & par.11[from the last] because Johnlock is canon!)  
Storyline of Sheet from RPing with stranger. Credit for you, hey awesome stranger! (Hope you recognize this as I made many editing for the story.).  
Listen to Martin Freeman 'One Love' (Ian Dury) while reading this, please. Oh it's so perfect for Sherlock theme song.

Disclaimer: The brilliant characters etc. belong to amazing Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.

Warning: spoiler to aforementioned chapters of Sherlock Holmes. And paragraph format messed up after I uploaded my file to FFnet. Whatever. My first time anyway. #excuse

Unbetaed. Expect grammar errors.

Summary Ch.1: Financial difficulties led a consulting detective and an ex-army medic shared a flat. In no time they're inseparable for crime scenes. In action, Sherlock Holmes fully dressed with coat and blue scarf. In their flat, white sheet simply wrapped around his bare body. John Watson had to decide whether it's a bother or bless. Story development Bond-Love-Sheet.

Happy New Year! Autumn 2013, we're ready for Sherlock 3!

* * *

**CHAPTER 1.**

-ACCIDENTALLY-

**I. Accidentally in BOND**

Their late night exertions had been too much for John Watson's weak health, and he was tired out in the past midnight. After Sherlock Holmes bid him a good night, John lay upon his cold bed and endeavored to get a couple of hours' sleep.

Ah, no such luxury when you lived and bonded with a high-functioning sociopath that was Sherlock Holmes.

Fully dressed, with his coat and blue scarf wrapped around his neck, Sherlock ambushed his only flat mate's bedroom. The sleeping man was giving his back. When the detective was about to wake the man, John turned facing him sleeping.

Sherlock's hand and his voice was paused mid-air. His sharp and piercing eyes stared at the sleeping man.

John's face at the moment was so peaceful and looked much younger. Untouched by the constant nightmare of war field that had haunted the ex-soldier for years. With unexplainable expression, Sherlock stood by the side of John's bed watching him sleep, forgetting his early intention of entering the room.

It was a loud horn of a car out the 221B Baker Street wall that arose both bachelors.

"John." Sherlock called.

John blinked up at Sherlock in some surprise, and perhaps just some resentment, for the interruption.

The clock on the nightstand showed John that it was only a quarter-past seven. He had slept no more than four hours. He was a late person. Sherlock Holmes was a late riser. So what did they owe the pleasure of waking up in the haze of a morning?

"John, we have a very pressing case lies ahead."

"All right. Be safe."

"I said _we_."

"Do you really need my assistance?" John annoyed by the intrusion of his lack of sleep. Even after years he had his sleep hours messed up by Sherlock's suddens, yet he still couldn't accustomed to it as it was his regular.

"I need you." Sherlock paused for a moment, "I mean I need a fresh perspective on this. Besides, hearing your useless and invalid comments…never fails to enlighten me. Now, hurry." Sherlock dragged John out of bed.

* * *

John Watson was grumbling mentally while Sherlock's eyes traveled round and round and up and down, taking in every detail of the mansion.

"John, will you stop it."

The doctor gave the detective fierce glance. It was freaking freezing in the big empty room and he hadn't had a chance to put jacket on as Sherlock hastily pulled him out into a taxi that morning.

A quick and heavy step of a young lady entered the room.

"Mr. Holmes, I thought I've informed you that this is an absolute secrecy and I should much prefer to communicate with you alone." The young lady looked at the detective sharp.

Great. Now he had an uncalled chance to go home and back to his warm and cozy bed, John thought.

"Should I, just go, then.." The doctor moved to go, but Sherlock caught him by the wrist and pulled him back by his side.

"Miss Stoner, this is my intimate friend and associate, Dr Watson, before whom you can speak as freely as before myself." Sherlock exclaimed without a blink, chin rose up.

John Watson could feel himself surprised and blushed at the chosen words. He turned his head to other side, hoping both persons didn't notice it.  
Sherlock, always surprised everyone with his extraordinary word choose, John spoke mentally.

The talk between the young lady and the detective went on and on. Supposition lines, facts and reasons were exchanged between the both of them.

They were outside the mansion now. John was only on his shirt and trousers stood beside the consulting detective, watching the hard and peculiar conversation. By only standing without doing anything, the doctor could feel the cold seeped through his pain bone.

He put his hands into his trousers' pockets. Shivered once in a while. But never in his mind crossed the thought to leave the detective alone in the crime scene for a cup of hot tea or some comfort.

John Watson had no keener pleasure than in following Sherlock Holmes in his professional investigations, and in admiring the rapid deductions, as swift as intuitions, and yet always founded on a logical basis with which Sherlock unraveled the cases in swift conclusion which were submitted to him.

John realized a moment there was a deft. He focused his eyes and mind back to reality and looked at Sherlock. The detective had just stopped mid-deduction and put off his coat.

John frowned. Sherlock Holmes never stopped mid-deduction.

To John's surprise, Sherlock wrapped the coat around his shoulders.

"Looked cold." Mumbled Sherlock and he was back to his client, rambling the rest of his deduction.

John Watson, for the first time in his life, stood with mouth agape and had nothing in his mind to think of.

He only registered goosebump on Sherlock's exposed arms to his notion.

Without thinking, John reached for the folded sleeves on Sherlock's elbows and unfolded it, covering the exposed skin with the expensive purple garment.

Sherlock in other hand did notice what his doctor did and had again paused his exclamation words of deduction to look at John's eyes. Again, the unexplainable expression crossed on Sherlock's face.

* * *

**II. Accidentally in LOVE**

Sherlock Holmes stared in silence at John Watson, whose lips were compressed and his brow knitted by his worry eyes as the doctor was stitching on Sherlock's arm.

"It was beyond my expectation," Sherlock broke the silence, unable to stand John's silence, "the man, had obstinate to summon his strength to grab the heavy gun after I took him down."

The doctor didn't respond. Sherlock's face twitched.

"He shot the gun at you, for God's sake, John! He deserved it!" Sherlock grabbed John's upper arms and shook him, making the doctor raised his head and stared back at his dear friend.

Sherlock's hard eyes were dimmed for a moment, and the firm lips were shaking.

"Yes, Sherlock, but it was a mere scratch. You didn't have to finish him that horribly. He could die." John took Sherlock's hands and put them down to the man's lap, he's back on fixing the detective's wound.

"If he had killed you, he would not have got out of that room alive." Sherlock hissed in dark voice.

It was worth a wound—it was worth many wounds—for John to know the depth of loyalty and love which lay behind that cold mask. All his many years of devotion and humble but single-minded service culminated in that moment of revelation.

"I'm fine, Sherlock." Head down, after a moment pause of shock, John made effort to focus back on his medical work. Then he whispered, "Thank you."

Sherlock pulled a tiny smile on the corner of his mouth, which soon vanished as footsteps came near them.

"The man's hardly breathe. Still alive, though. So, would you mind letting us know what you have seen and _done_, Holmes?" Lestrade said breathlessly while he walked closer toward the ambulance where both best friends occupied. Seemed the detective inspector had finished the hard work on the spectacular messy crime scene.

"What happened with your thigh, doc?" Sergeant Donovan pointed her chin to the bleeding thigh of John.

John looked down at the mentioned subject. He remembered how Sherlock in panic had ripped up his trouser with his pocket knife to check his leg that had been touched by the villain's bullet.

"It's nothing." John raised his eyebrows. He had forgotten about his wound as he was too worried by the wide slice on Sherlock's arm. Now that someone had mentioned it, he could feel the pain started to register in his brain.

Sherlock, noticed too, just now. He grimaced.

* * *

**III. Accidentally in SHEET**

With a heavy sigh, John Watson turned off the laptop. Feeling still irritated by the harsh comment he got for his blog about their last case of Silver Blaze he had solved with his flat mate. Or, _intimate friend_, in Sherlock's reference. John blushed at the memory.

He decided to have an afternoon cup of tea.

When the doctor stepped into the sitting room in his unpleasant mood, he thought nothing could be any worse until he stared tiredly at the man before him.

"Sherlock," John rubbed his temples with his right thumb and index finger.

"Yes?" The said man who was just walking few meters out from his bedroom door stopped, and turned his head toward his flat mate.

"Can you for once not walking around the flat with only, sheet, wrapping your body?" John dropped his right hand and stared at Sherlock.

"Why?"

"It- do you even wear pants?" John cocked back his head, frowning.

"What for?"

John blew a heavy sigh.

"It's not an appropriate thing normal people would do." John walked closer toward Sherlock. But of course, he's not a normal person, John added mentally.

"It's just you and me, so what's the problem?" Sherlock looked down at the man before him.

"It's just...look, can you change on robe, please?"

"If you give me one good reason, I will."

"You could trip, stepping the sheet. I could step on it and you could fall. It could be hooked to a corner and you will fall as you walk," John folded his arms on his chest.

"I have a great sense of balance and experience walking around like this. It won't happen."

"Or _maybe_, someone will come and drag you out without concerning your…" John eyed him from head to toe, to his face again, "glorious appearance, again. For God Sake, do you not learn from experience?"

"Does it bother you?" Sherlock raised his eyebrow.

"….." Another heavy sigh.

John walked more closer and stepped on the sheet, prayed that Sherlock would walk soon and the only consulting detective then would fall face down.  
Though Sherlock didn't glance at the act, but the taller man knew what the foot was obviously doing.

"Does it really bother you that much? I could just drop it, you know."

"Go ahead." John said tiredly, staring back up at Sherlock.

Sherlock dropped the white sheet to the floor, his eyes locked on John's.

"There. Happy?"

John's jaw dropped.

"Oh my God, Sherlock!?" John didn't blink. "Bloody hell Sherlock you're not wearing pants!" John's face red than ever.

"Oh, did I forget to warn you?" Sherlock smirked, "Can I have my blanket back now?"

John couldn't close his jaw. He felt his leg so very heavy to be removed from the white sheet he was stepping on.

Sherlock tried to tug the sheet away from him.

"Will you stop gawking? Have you never seen a naked man?"

John suddenly realized that he's still staring at Sherlock's private area. Felt hit by shame, he lost balance and fell on his bottom as Sherlock tugged the sheet harder.

"Ouch!"

"What are you even doing? Sometimes I really think you're an idiot, John." Sherlock walked over to him and offered his hand to him. "Come on, get up."

And as John pulled up, still unbalanced, he slipped his step by the sheet, ended up crashing on to Sherlock.

"Damn..." Sherlock hissed at the pain in his back from the fall. "Will you get it together, John? What is wrong with you?" He looked the doctor over. "Are you all right?"

"Oh God sorry. Are you all right?" John asked before he went freeze. He fell on top of naked Sherlock. His thighs on Sherlock's hips.

"I'm fine. Might have my back bruised later... John, are you okay?" Sherlock nudged John's shoulder.

"Yes..yes I'm fine. Sorry. Here, let me see your back."

Sherlock turned around for him to look at his back.

"It's fine. It might bruise, but its fine. Why were you freezing like that?" Sherlock asked as John examined the silky skin.

"Hm? Nothing." John touched the skin to test it.

"You froze twice. I have to ask again; have you never seen a naked man before?" Sherlock shivered slightly under the touch.

"Of course I've seen naked man before. I'm a doctor, remember? Are you all right? You shiver." John put his hand flat on Sherlock's back. "Hm, there might be bruises soon. The rug's too rough for your bare skin." said John, biting his tongue not to add _delicate _to the sentence.

"I'm shivering because you're tickling me." Sherlock replied. "Does it bother you to see me naked, then, John?"

"No, it doesn't bother me. It just felt...awkward. You're ticklish?" John trailed his fingers on Sherlock's back.

"Stop that." Sherlock shook a little.

"Sensitive, huh?"

"Yes, sensitive skin. Runs in the family."

John tickled Sherlock's side more.

Sherlock fought his laughter, pulling John's hands away. "S-stop it."

"All body part? How about your front?" John encircled Sherlock's body from the back with his arms, moving his hands to tickle Sherlock's stomach.

"I-I said sto-op! John!" The detective tried to fight John, trashing a little.

"Ha ha Sherlock ticklish!" John declared to the flat, having so much fun tickling Sherlock. He discovered one the almost perfect man's weakness. John knew that God is wise and fair.

"John! S-swear I'll kill you! Stop this! No more tickling." Sherlock nearly yelled at him.

But as Sherlock dropped on his side, John's left hand accidentally placed to the detective's crotch.

"Sorry!" John froze; hand unrevoked from the crotch.

"No point in saying sorry," Sherlock didn't seem to take in the fact that John's hand was on his member yet. "I'll get my revenge."

"Well yeah try me." John snapped, taken by the challenge, forgetting his hand, "I'm not ticklish, Sherlock." And in remained irritate thought of not hitting Sherlock's jaw, John made a fist, squeezed Sherlock's member accidentally.

"Ahh...!" escaped Sherlock's lips as he felt the stimulation on his lower region. "J-john!"

"What?" John didn't realize what he was doing yet.

Sherlock took a deep breath. "You're... touching me..." He pointed at his length and John's hand around it. He could feel himself getting excited.

John looked down at the spot.

"Oh God I'm sor-" and the doctor felt the organ became stiff in his hand. "Sherlock?"

"What do you expect, you're _touching_ it!" Sherlock complained. "Of course it's going to react!"

" But I thought you...you're asexual..." John tilted his head, confused. John tried to squeeze the member again in seek for reaction.

"Why would you think I wa-aah stop that!" Despite his words, Sherlock didn't move to remove John's hand.

John became very curious by this new discovery.

"But you never respond to any sexual stimulation. You didn't even respond to Irene's nudity that time..." John squeezed the member again. Just to test if Sherlock really wasn't asexual, John told himself mentally.

"I don't know why I didn't react to her. Too skinny, mayb- Joooohhn...! Will you stop it!?"

Unexpectedly, John felt hard. He hoped Sherlock would not notice the bulge which started to rise on his crotch. John froze. He pulled his hand from Sherlock and tried to detach himself from Sherlock before the consulting detective noticed anything.

"Good...you stopped." Sherlock moved slightly before John got away, still committed to his revenge. And then he noticed. "And this is..."

"Whatareyoudoing?!" John panicked.

Sherlock, as revenge, pressed his palm to the bulge. "Uncomfortable, isn't it?"

"S-stop it!"

"You didn't. Why should I?" Sherlock tortured him by rubbing the clothed erection slowly.

"Sher-Ahh!" John quickly put his hand on his mouth, to stop himself from moaning.

"Now you know how I felt." Sherlock grinned at him. He still had his own erection, but he seemed to forget it.

"Sherlock stop it right now! This is not for game!" John wondered if Sherlock even acknowledge the context of sexual.

"Experiment, then?" Sherlock suggested.

"Sherlock!"

Sherlock pushed himself over John. "Then why didn't you stop?"

"Ahh! I wasn't aware! Sherlock what are you doing? Get off me!"

"You weren't aware of what?"

"Of- of- what I did with my hand. Sherlock do you **aware** of our situation right now? You, naked, over me. What if someone come in and sees us? People might talk!"

"No one's going to come in now. And how could you not be aware of that!? You were squeezing it. On purpose."

John tried to slip out from beneath Sherlock, accidentally brushed his clothed member with Sherlock's bare flesh. "Oh my God!"

"Joohn, will you be still?"

"I- I-" So much for intimate friends, John dryly joked in his mind. He couldn't move though. Sherlock Holmes was straddling him. "All right, off you go."

When John thought Sherlock was about to rose up, he followed the gesture pushing his hips up to stand on his feet. What he didn't anticipate was that the stubborn must-always-be-the-top-and-not-follow- order dark haired man pressed down instead.

Both shocked and hissed simultaneously by the mishap act.

Too irritated and mad at the insane detective, plus the pent-up emotions and yearn from the long secret admiration toward the brilliant man, John dared himself taking the opportunity. He clawed Sherlock's back, pushing the detective down unto his aching body fully.

"Damn, Sherlock!"

"God John...!" Sherlock was pressed against John and he felt his member twitched.

John couldn't see Sherlock's eyes. He nuzzled his head to Sherlock's collar bone. Gasped and accidentally bit Sherlock's collar bone as he tried to close his mouth.  
Sherlock moved his hips unconsciously.

"...Joohn, geez...! Ah!" The man gasped when he was bitten, and searching for retaliation, attacking John's earlobe.

"Sherlock..!" John gasped. He rocked his hips, encircling Sherlock's waist with his left leg. He trailed kisses Sherlock's collar bone and nipped the delicate neck.

"Stop moving! For f-" Sherlock didn't seem to be able to stop either. "Ah...!"

John put his hands on Sherlock's back, couldn't make any words. Sherlock was just moaned. One thing he had never known the man could produce before. He just made Sherlock created that sinful voice for him.

John flipped their bodies so that now Sherlock was beneath him.

"What are you..." Sherlock gave up, rocking his hips still.

John started kissing every inch of Sherlock's skin. And when he reached the face, John looked at those brilliantly austere grey eyes, saying, "Like it?"

Sherlock just nodded and leaned up to kiss John, pulling him down.

And their lips met for the first time. It was only a simple pressure at first, but then experimentally Sherlock brushed his lips to John's soft and warm lips. Slowly John opened his mouth to the innocence gesture and instinctively Sherlock started to kiss John properly.

That was their first kiss. It was a tender one, but so demanding in progress. John savoring it, kissing back the detective passionately. Devouring Sherlock's mouth.

Sherlock kissed back just as hard and passionate, his hands daring down John's back all the way. It felt pleasant and good and he felt his body tingling by the kiss. Battle of tongues soon followed.  
While the other man caressed Sherlock's bare chest, slowly moving his hand down the south.  
The doctor felt precum leaking against his own trousers.

Sherlock tried to pull John's trousers down but only snaked his fingers inside.  
John rubbed the smooth and delicate skin displayed beneath him. He needed to feel Sherlock's skin against his.  
A moment later John felt callused fingers slither in to his trousers, running in passing the pants' band. He pulled his body, looking down at Sherlock in the eye.

"Shall we continue this…" John paused in seek for a negative reply against the idea of carrying the act on. But nothing casted from Sherlock's mouth, so he continued the sentence, "on bed?"

"If we have to." Sherlock replied irritated that he stopped.

"Don't want your skin ruined by the rough surface." John pulled Sherlock up, dragged him hastily to Sherlock's bedroom, which was the closest. Meanwhile his fingers worked on his shirt's buttons.

Sherlock pulled on John as well, trying to pull off his shirt without unbuttoning it.

"Patient, Sherlock." But Doctor John was not on the patient department, too, right now. He pulled his trousers off of him.

"You should have just wear jumper today." Sherlock muttered while he was working on John's shirt. "Make this easier."

John rolled his eyes. As if this was planned.

Sherlock finally got rid the rest of John's clothing, groping and running his hands over the skin, coming to nip at his shoulders like the doctor had done to him.  
John's legs turned into jelly as Sherlock licked his bullet wound mark in his left shoulder. He threw Sherlock to bed and fell on top of him.

"God, Sherlock..." John rocked his body, rutting his hips onto Sherlock's.

Sherlock was about to spat something at being pushed onto the bed, but just groaned at the friction.

"Yeah, John...?"

"Need...more..." John kissing and nipping Sherlock's neck alternately.

Sherlock wrapped his legs around John, keeping him as close as possible, panting.  
John raised his face hovering Sherlock's, staring at him for a moment. Had he not been in army medical department, he wouldn't know how to do it with a man as it was John's first time with a man.

"John?" Sherlock noticed the uncertainty on the doctor's eyes.

Blinking, hail to his medical experience, John decided to try it. He put his fingers on Sherlock's lips.

"Suck."

Sherlock would have made a face if he knew what he was doing. For some reason he didn't. So he opened his mouth and sucked John's fingers, running his tongue all over them.

John's member twitched in anticipation from the warmth and for what would come next. His eyes kept locking on Sherlock, watching his intimate friend sucking his fingers sensually.

"Do you know that you look so erotic right now, Sher?"

Sherlock pulled away from the fingers for a moment.

"Sher?" The dark haired man went back to sucking the fingers, rolling his hips.

"Mm..." John lapped Sherlock's neck, nibbled at the spot on the back of flushed ear once in a while.

"I think that's enough.." John pulled out his fingers from the hot wet cavern.

Sherlock almost whined at the loss, so he leaned up to suck at John's neck.

"Ahh.." as he enjoyed Sherlock on his neck, John spread Sherlock's thighs wider and let one of his slick fingers traced Sherlock's rim.

Sherlock moaned, shivering from the touch, pushing his hips against the finger.

"Oh God!" John reached for Sherlock's lips and kissed him while he slid his index finger into Sherlock.  
The finger paused as John felt the man beneath him stiffened.  
John pulled out of the kiss.

"Okay?"

Sherlock whimpered at the intrusion, against the kiss, pulling John closer again and shoving his tongue in.  
And then John remembered something.

The debates he had been having with Mrs. Hudson. The bet Scotland Yard people—Anderson and Donovan had set which he overheard long ago. The hurt voice from Sherlock's throat when he told John that the Adler woman had called him The Virgin.

"Oh my God. Sherlock, you've never done this before." John paled, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry did I hurt you."

The doctor was about to pull out his finger when Sherlock panted for a while before nodding.

"It's fine."

John bit his lower lip.

"John," Sherlock opened his eyes, "I trust you. Trust you wholly. And I want you to take me. Carry on." The dark haired man stroked John's cheekbone with his thumb.

John looked into the eyes. He had his trademark frown lines on his forehead. So Sherlock was interested in this kind of activity?

"Well, this breaks all the question then." John raised his eyebrows.

"What of?" Sherlock gripped John's hair harder, wanted to bring the delicious lips back to his.

"That you're asexual… Gay, then?" John raised an eyebrow, tilted his head a bit to the left.

"Neither." Answered Sherlock firm.

"Huh?" John tilted his head deeper to the left, confused.

The questioned man ignored John, pulling him back to claim the lips.  
In instant John started to move his fingers in and out gently. He could feel the dark haired man smirked within the kiss.

"I'll add second finger in.."

Sherlock heaved with the motions. "Yeah, okay.."

John's fingers started scissoring in and out Sherlock's entrance.  
The man beneath moaned as he was stretched.

"Gods... John..."

John licked the hard nipples, mouth-kissing Sherlock's chest to distract him from the pain.  
Sherlock's breath hitched, but he started rolling his hips against the fingers, getting used to the feeling.  
John added the third finger and moved them deeper in torturing slow motions. His middle finger accidentally touched a bundle of nerves inside.

"Oh God, John! What's that?" Sherlock almost screamed when a wave of pleasure surpassed the sting.

John smirked, pushed the bum again, and again while he tried to store the location into his memory. His free hand was stroking Sherlock's hair.  
It's so tight inside and John couldn't stand the tempt no more. He pulled out his fingers.

"John?" Sherlock protested, liking the rub on the sensitive spot. "John...why did you stop? That felt amazing..."

John was showering Sherlock's face with kisses. Then he looked at the man beneath him. Pupils dilated, half lidded eyes, lips parted, face shone with desire and lust.  
He did this to the emotionless man. Nobody had ever produced this reaction to the man before, as far as he knew. This man had never been touched by anyone before, to his acknowledge.

John was touching him now, in the very intimate way. He was the only person ever had the privilege of all this. But then, John himself never interested in men before. He examined men's bodies many times before, being a doctor, but they had never done anything to him. Never had he attracted to them as he was now intently to Sherlock.

Feeling confused, then touched and flattered, John whispered to Sherlock's ear,

"I'll bring you heaven next."

And John paused.

"Sherlock, do you have…um..something for…lubricant?" red faced John was.

"Lubricant? For what?"

"Ah…I think we better-"

Sherlock took a glance down and saw John was gripping his rigid member.

"Ah! That for. I have a tube of soothing gel in the drawer but I'm afraid I've used all of it for an experiment yesterday." Self-pleasure, must be, Sherlock thought.

"Well, I don't want for your first time without lubricant. Can't be good for your body." John bit his lip.

"Me? My body? What do you mean?"

"Huh?" John dumbfounded. But then he remembered that this was the man's ever first sexual experience. And here he thought Sherlock would know at least bit information about man-man encounter. Hadn't got any such issue case, then, probably. Or, Sherlock simply didn't interested nor cared about it, maybe..

"Well, this is how a man do it with another man. See, um..man gets his pleasure from his genital and prostate, so you put it on.." John was having difficulty in explaining it to Sherlock. It just felt awkward, that's all.

"Ha! Of course I know that. But I see… You need to touch my prostate with your genital." Faint blush brushed Sherlock's cheeks. There he thought taking him simply meant fellatio. He didn't think that the doctor would go this far. But Sherlock cared for and trusted him. And he wanted John. He wanted John to take him completely.

"Right. So, I'll um..take some lubricant in my room.."

"Unnecessary." Sherlock hooked his legs to John's thighs, pushing him down to him.

"Aahh.." As a good doctor of his, John would be against the idea of hurting his flat mate raw. To be honest, he had grown to care more than much to his one flat mate—ah correction, his intimate friend. He really didn't want to cause hurt even any tiny one. But he looked deep at those dilated pupils which were full of desire in Sherlock's eyes. Cursing mentally, John rubbed his head, gathering s as much precum and spreading it onto his member as lubricant.

When he felt his member covered all in precum, he touched Sherlock's entrance with the head.

"Are you ready?" John cupped Sherlock's cheek, feeling himself not ready.

"Not sure... But isn't it too late to chicken out?" Sherlock smiled to him, fully keeping trust to his best man. "Just push it in, John... I can't take the wait."

John bit his bottom lip for the umpteenth time that afternoon.  
His eyes met Sherlock's and John watched Sherlock's face as he pushed the head in slowly passed the tight sphincter muscle of the rectum.

"Gods, Sherlock..."

Sherlock closed his eyes tightly, biting his tongue not to scream.  
John waited for both of them getting used to the new hot and tight sensation.

"All right?" John stroked Sherlock's side. The other hand squeezed Sherlock's arm in effort to not begin thrusting his entire length immediately.

Sherlock waited, feeling his lower body stretched around a huge, hot, throbbing mass, until he thought that moving had to be better than staying still.

"..y-yeah...you can...move..." He gasped, "Damn, John you're huge...!"

"Sorry." John moved his left hand gingerly, massaging Sherlock's lower back, relaxing him, hoping to ease the pain. He saw the uncomforted and slight grimace expression on Sherlock's face. Guilty feeling and worry rushed in him. "We can stop if you want." He concerned.

"I said move, John!" Sherlock heaved out. "You're just huge, but for the love of God, move."

So John wrapped Sherlock's legs locked around him and began to thrust his entire shaft deep inside the detective cautiously.  
Sherlock grunted and whined. Both men waited until Sherlock felt the pain became numb. As John moving slowly, Sherlock started moaning with every slow rub of John inside him.  
Soon John began to thrust into Sherlock intently. He watched Sherlock's face in each thrust and each thrust pressed against Sherlock's prostate.

"How do you feel?"

Sherlock was trying to cover his sounds with his hand, his eyes still closed. But the more John moved, the more he hit that place which sent waves throughout his body. He panted, but released his own mouth. "Damn, John...! So... bloody... good, there..."

John watched as Sherlock moaning, alternately gasping, and watching as the man's body beneath him trembling on the bed. So open and vulnerable.

"God, you look beautiful, Sher...lock." John was showered with sensuous delight.

Sherlock called out for him.

"John... John... oh God, Joohn...!" Both palms dug on sheets.

John thrust harder and a bit faster, attacking Sherlock's prostate. He let out moans with every thrust, biting his lip in bliss.

"Oh God Sherlock! Ahh..."

Sherlock started crying out at each movement, hands gripping the sheets tightly.  
John's left hand reached down to take hold of Sherlock's shaft and started stroking it. The other hand clutched on Sherlock's hand that was gripping the sheets tightly now.

"Sherlock..you..feel so good.."

Sherlock couldn't really put correct sentences together. Mind so blur and unfocused, calling for John again and again, between pants, moans and elegant swears. It's starting to feel light with John stroking him as well.  
John gave him an affectionate smile, sliding in and out of Sherlock in rhythm of stroking him.

"You…definitely.." the shorter man stopped for a few seconds, "exquisite."

"God, John..! I-...I'm...!"

"Want me to stop?" John licked his lips, raised his eyebrows.

Sherlock shook his head furiously. "M-more...!"

"More?" John lit up, "You mean like this?" He thrust even faster and deeper. He's moaning uncontrollably.

Sherlock's back arched off the bed, head thrown and buried in the mattress, and a long, dragged cry of "Yeeesssss!"

John felt the muscles of his thighs straining. The mattress was shaking with every thrust as Sherlock was forced into. John breathed heavily, feeling near to the edge.

"Do you like the way I feel inside you?" John stroked Sherlock faster and tighter. In the same time he was trying to map the detective's inside. Really endeavored to memorize the exact magic spot for later. If there would ever be any next time.

"Oh Gods! Yes! John, yes!" were the last words out of Sherlock until it's just cries and moans, as he's almost crossing the edge.

"Gods Sherlock, you're so divine!" John thrust deeper and their bodies rocking together.

As he watched the man beneath him writhing and moaning and gasping, all because of him, John couldn't hold back anymore.

"Sherlock, I need...need...come..."

Sherlock cried out John's name, his back completely off the bed as he came onto them, his vision white and the strain and pleasure overflowing.  
As John felt Sherlock tightened around him, he surrendered and released deep into Sherlock. Gasping the divinely man's name. He forced his eyes open to watch Sherlock's face as they both came.

Sherlock dropped onto the bed, having trouble breathing as he came down from the mind-blowing high. His whole body was shaking with aftershock. While the doctor came down from the high, fell on top of Sherlock.

A moment of solid silent. And both men finally able to hear the short rhythm of their breaths again. John pulled out of Sherlock, dropped his body beside him.

"Wow." John turned his head to see Sherlock.

Sherlock wasn't sure he could talk. His throat felt pretty raw and hoarse. He managed a low

"...John...", calling for the man beside him. He felt full as hell.

John rolled to his side facing Sherlock. He caressed the man's cum-covered chest.

"All right?"

"...not sure..." Sherlock panted. "...kiss me..."

"Hm, who knew Sherlock Holmes cuddle." John chuckled.

"If you must know, though it's irrelevant to our current state, cuddling highly efficient at reducing the effects of stress. The en-"

John sighed, pulling Sherlock closer so that they both lay by their sides. He buried his hand on Sherlock's damp hair and started kissing the taller man, in instant stopped the detective's rambling.

Sherlock kissed back weakly at first, still regaining his breath, but it grew in depth and strength with passion and desire.  
As John kissed Sherlock with the same desire, he felt something tingling and warm grew inside him. The doctor dared not think of what it might be.  
He, however, was aware that it was something that had developed for years in his heart, yet growing intensified from time to time.  
Sherlock pulled away to breathe.

"...that was... amazing... I'll be sore... tomorrow... won't I?"

John smiled apologetically.

"I think so.." he reached up, pushed the damp curls away from Sherlock's face.

"...when I'm better..." Sherlock started, finally opening his eyes to look at John, "we're doing...this again..."

"Again?" John's face lightened up in surprise.

"...yeah. Maybe I get...a go on you..." he smirked.

John blushed furiously. "I- I- ...you do?"

"Would you let me...?" Sherlock's eyebrow rose.

John bit his lip.  
Sherlock sighed.

"...a no then. It's fine..."

"NO! I mean," John whispered "yes.." He couldn't take his eyes on Sherlock. Suddenly felt too embarrassed. And hot.

"...really?" Sherlock lighted up with a smile.

"Well.. um.." John played his fingers on the cum smeared on Sherlock's chest, investigated the substance in the process. The man really needed to eat more. John made a self-note to force Sherlock have a proper meal tomorrow.

"...scared...?" Sherlock teased, leaning closer and pressing his forehead to John's head.

John was so embarrassed and flattered at the same time and he didn't know what to say. So he kissed Sherlock hard instead.  
Sherlock was surprised, but kissed back, holding John's face in his hand.  
John pulled back as the air was crucially needed for his lungs.

"You really meant it? Not something post-coital thing?" Great. Now John sounded like an insecure teen.

"What...? Doing it again...?"

"No," John chuckled, "I mean...that you..me.. uh.."

Sherlock blinked.  
John flushed to his neck.

"Oh this is so embarrassing. I act like a fool puberty boy." John put his forehead on Sherlock's collar bone. "Though, I don't mind with the doing it again thing.." John whispered faintly.

"What is wrong with you John? You're not making sense..." Sherlock frowned, unable to understand.

"Uh, right. Sorry. Just ignore my rumble."

"...don't make me hurt you, John."

"Wh- like how?" John looked at Sherlock, raised his eyebrow.

"...don't test me. Tell me again, nice and clear."

"Tell you what?"

Sherlock imitated John from before,

"That you..me.. Oh this is so embarrassing!"

"All right, all right." John laughed at what Sherlock did. "Yes."

"...see what I mean? You make no sense." Sherlock complained. "All I got was the 'permission' to go again once I feel better. Beyond that, you're eluding me."

John smiled at Sherlock.

"...I don't like that smile of yours. You're mocking me." Sherlock made his best effort to turn his back on John.

"Oh come on, Sherlock..." John decided to let Sherlock have him his back and he spooned the man.

Frowning slightly, the doctor made self note mentally to look after Sherlock's back as he saw the skin started to make faint mark of bruises from earlier activity. He held Sherlock tightly, kissing Sherlock's back.

"No, sorry, I'm mad. You're not telling me. I'm pissed." Sherlock remained cold to the caresses.

"No, really, Sher, what do you want me to tell you? 'Sherlock let's do it again tomorrow because I think I'm addicted to you. In fact, why don't we do it again soon after you feel better tonight?' That, you want me to say, hm?" John kissed the firm shoulder.

For a moment there was silence.

"Sherlock? Am I misunderstanding you?" John stopped kissing.

"If that was what you were trying to say with your teenage mumbling, then yes. If not, then the mumbling, only translated so I can understand."

Ah, John felt now it's Sherlock who wasn't making sense. But of course, he never put to himself all things that made sense for Sherlock. Anyway, he stroked the sullen man's side.

"Fine." Really, John thought the one being childish was Sherlock. "We do this again… And again, since I'm fond of you..." John nuzzled into Sherlock's nape.

"I'm fond of you, too. Rather a lot..."

John smiled.

"This was quite enjoyable. Though tiring... But," Sherlock frowned, noticing something unmentioned inside his mind palace earlier, "My mind feels… Refresh."

"Good. Now sleep. You look exhausted." John kissed Sherlock's nape.

"Yeah. Night, John..."

"Good night, Sherlock." John encircled the dark haired man with his arms, pulling closer and pressed their bodies together.

While the taller man covered the arms with one of his and smiled genuine secretly, felt content with the warmth in all way that his intimate friend gave possessively.

* * *

John woke up with something wet licking his earlobe.  
As he opened his eyes, Sherlock was pressing his body on top of him, having his way with John's earlobe.

"S-Sherlock? What are you doing?" John's eyes went wide.

"Hm?" Sherlock moved his mouth down, licking John's jaw line until his face hovering John's.

"Wh-" John stopped his word as he remembered what had happened last night. _Oh, yeah_.

"I forgot to ask you last night, John. Tell me," Sherlock ignored his doctor's question, "Why did you call me 'Sher'?"

John could feel his face burning and red to his neck. His body warm from the heat Sherlock's bare body shared and the gears on his head stopped working.

"Jooohn~" Sherlock rose a bit, demanding answer.

"Huh? What did you- Oh, it's- a... I don't know. It just came out. Maybe because it's simply shorter and faster to call you." John put his trademark frown on, trying to process something, everything. But then he remembered Sherlock's back.

"Ah, wait. Sherlock, your back. I'll take my bag to treat your skin." John raised his body up, pushing Sherlock who was on top of him as well.

He put Sherlock's dressing gown on after the detective gave him compliment about his glory form then walked out toward his bedroom.  
A moment later John came back with a jar in hand and sat on the bedside.

"What's that?" Sherlock asked as he lay on his stomach, giving the doctor his back for the treatment.

John had to restrain himself from launching himself on top of Sherlock as he saw trails of his dry cum at Sherlock's upper thighs.

"A balm to heal your bruise." John managed to detach his eyes from the delicious view, opened the cap and started to rub the gel on the bruised skin.

"Ah, good. Now we have something proper for lubricant." Sherlock let out a long relieving sigh. "You know, John, having sex with you have released my tensions and refreshed my brain. So I have come to a conclusion that having sexual intercourse with you may—in highly possibility—be my ritual rescue to boredom and ruckus."

The jar of soothing gel almost slipped off of Doctor John Watson's grip.

* * *

**IV. Science of Deduction**

Sherlock Holmes was a high-functioning sociopath.

Sherlock Holmes never cared anybody. Never took notice of everybody. He had no social life.  
Sherlock was a loner and didn't strive to make friends, although he valued those that he had. The detective was a heartless, emotionless human being. The man had once self-described as married to his work.

And then there was John Watson.

Sherlock considered John as his friend. The detective did have few that he considered as friend. But John noticed that the detective valued them none higher than him.  
John saw that the heartless man wasn't that heartless at all, since him. Sherlock wasn't lack of emotion at all either, at least for John, he noticed.

Sherlock was oblivious or disdainful of love. John noticed Sherlock ignored the romantic interest that Molly Hooper, the laboratory technician at St Bartholomew's Hospital had in him. Even the flirts _the_ dominatrix model Irene Adler gave never go responded by Sherlock.  
Sherlock was not a whole-souled admirer of womankind. The only joy Sherlock derived from the company of women was the problems they brought him to solve.

However, the doctor never failed to catch the hostility look on Sherlock's piercing grey eyes every time the consulting detective caught a woman gave John any romantic signals.  
Sherlock had no interest to women. So that must not be a sign of jealousy, John drawn a small deduction.

Then John came to realize.  
Sherlock despised and threw cold war and harsh words toward all John's movie dates.  
Sherlock wasn't interested to sex. And then Sherlock submitted to him.

How elusive.

So, as time went by he spent his life with the consulting detective, with much better observation and deduction skill now, John Watson discovered that Sherlock Holmes wasn't asexual or homosexual.

Sherlock Holmes was Johnsexual.

* * *  
-You've been Johnlocked-


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER 2**

Summary Ch.2: John wanted to take back his premature deduction that Sherlock was Johnsexual. A Johnsexual Sherlock was insufferable and insatiable. John proposed a new less harmless deduction: Sherlock Holmes was falling for him.

AN: It's 29th January! The first time Sherlock Holmes and John Watson met!  
Happy Anniversary!  
(John's blog about the meeting: johnwatsonblog. co. uk / blog / 29january )  
And Happy Belated Birthday, Sherlock!

* * *

**I. Accidentally in THOUGHT**

John blew a heavy sigh for the God-only-know times that noon.  
Sherlock was firing gun to the yellow smiley face spray-painted on the living room wall downstairs. The doctor couldn't put his concentration on reading his new British Medical Journal with that condition. So he put down the journal on his desk and walked out of his room toward the sitting room where the current apocalypse happened.

When he entered the room, John didn't see any tall arrogant figure stood around. Instead he found the man he was looking for curled up on the sofa facing its back. Sherlock had violent mood swings during periods of extreme ennui when there were no cases. John knew better not to disturb the sullen consulting detective.

"Sherlock, I'm going to buy jam and milk. Do you need anything?"

No answer. With another heavy sigh, the doctor took his journey to the market.

* * *

When he arrived, Sherlock wasn't found anywhere in the sitting room, nor the kitchen.  
And when he was about to take a step to his room, the doctor heard a big thud from Sherlock's bedroom. It sounded like a big and heavy thing fell onto the floor.

"Sherlock? What was that?" No answer. "Sherlock, are you all right?" John walked toward the room. He put his ear on the door to hear something but he heard nothing. The older man began to panic. Sherlock had tendency to hurt himself in time like this.

"Sherlock? Sherlock are you all right?" John knocked the door. "Sherlock, I'm going in."

The doctor tried the door knob and it wasn't locked. So he opened the door and stepped into the dark space. John looked around in search for his intimate friend's figure. His eyes fell to the big bulge in bed. He sighed a relieving blow, but not entirely. He had to check the man if he really was fine and still in one piece. He walked toward the bed and reached out to open the cover.  
And when he opened it, he saw a pile of pillows. At the same time John saw a flash movement behind him.

"Damn!" John made a quick movement to reach for the door.

He was a fast runner. He used to have strong legs. But, that moment, with a tiger-spring, the dark haired man had intercepted him. John heard a sharp snap of a twisted key. The light turned on. The doctor could now saw Sherlock stood before him and was staring at him with predatory eyes. Sherlock started to walk toward John. The doctor staggered backward, suddenly felt thrilled and panting to the aura Sherlock was spreading.

The next moment Sherlock pounced on the panic man; both men fell to the bed.

"Sherlock, no. No, no-no-no stop it!" John was trying to escape from the strong man. With his best effort to struggle, he escaped from Sherlock's grip.

John ran toward the door but the key wasn't attached to the door so he ran round and round the bedroom with Sherlock chasing him behind.

"Sherlock, no. This is not the best solution!"

And after minutes chasing game, John felt his left leg started to give up. With so much hope he reached for his mobile phone from his jeans' pocket and dialed the Scotland Yard man. Sherlock was already got him and dragged the doctor to his queen sized bed.

"Lestrade," John almost shouted as he was pushed to the bed and got stripped. "Do you have a case- _Sherlock! Will yo_- What do you mean you have no case?!" The detective inspector seemed to understand John's intention at calling him because soon as John yelled Sherlock's name, Lestrade answered quick to his unspoken question. Then hang up the phone.

The Scotland Yard had been in absence of critical cases for three weeks now and no worthy cases came from any client to their flat and by the second week of case absence John started to make terror calls to Lestrade asking for **any** case.  
For God's sake this would be the third time in three days of sexual assault if Sherlock had not get case at hand. John had had two in a row at Tuesday. Yesterday he was saved by his sister—Harry's visit to their flat. That's why Sherlock was so infuriating this morning. He was very careful and full alert since then. But apparently John had fallen to the crafty man's trap now.

And suddenly now the bored consulting detective who was already naked without John's knowledged, was performing a skilled fellatio to John's shaft.

"Gaah! Sherl- oh Gods, Sherlock! Sto-op it… ahh!" John tried to pull Sherlock by gripping the consulting detective's hair to no avail.

Not for long, John's shaft became rigid hard as rock. And with a blink, followed by widened eyes, John saw his flat mate was already on top of him and positioned himself on top of his pointed shaft. John managed to hold Sherlock's hips in the air prevent him not to thrust down on him.

"Sherlock, no. No. Here, look," the doctor worked his brain amazingly fast that his brain discovered a might-be important medical invention proposal, "Sherlock, listen. I just read a journal about leukemia this morning, and, I was thin- _no-no-no_!" John's strong grips on Sherlock's hips were pulled by another man's stronger hands.

"No Sherlock listen here I offer you a medical experiment about the effect of Ponatinib to an abnormal tyrosine kinas—"

"Dull. All I need now is you, John. How many times have I told you that _this_ activity between you and me—in so called intimate connection—can release my tension and refresh my brain." With that, Sherlock pushed himself down in one swift thrust and John was deep inside him.

"Holy Mother, Sherlock! Ahh!" John threw his head back. In a mist of his mind he managed to notice that Sherlock had prepared himself with much lubricant inside.  
Sherlock moaned with a clear hint of a satisfying relief.

* * *

John glared at the sleeping man beside him. The face of Sherlock looked so peaceful and sated. John took a long breath. Two rounds in a row, again. The man had overly manic energy in his body to worn out.  
Oh, poor John. He was sitting against the headboard on Sherlock's bed, closing his eyelids. He began to questioning his premature deduction about Sherlock. Was he really into him, or was he just the easiest tool around to bring Sherlock back to his sanity and regroup his mind palace.

As if the consulting detective could sense the irritation, he opened his eyes revealing his awakening.

"John, my dear salvation, you know how bored I have been since we locked up that serial killer. My mind is like a racing engine, tearing itself to pieces because it is not connected up with the work for which it was built. Life is commonplace; the papers are sterile; audacity and romance seem to have passed forever from the criminal world."

John's eyes snapped open. His stare was digging a straight hole on the wall before him.

"Sherlock, do you," No. No, he wasn't going to ask it. Too hurt, too afraid of bringing reality and truth to his own hope. "Never mind. Now I believe you've been calmed down. Get some meal."

"Unnecessary. What did you want to say, John?" Sherlock looked up to John.

"Nothing. Now, we'll have dinner. Don't try to avoid. You need it. You haven't been eating for two days."

"John…" Sherlock started to slide further into the cover.

"Don't try it." John grabbed Sherlock's hair. "Your doctor says eat!"

"'m tired. Need sleep." Sherlock closed his eyes.

"Nope. That won't work for me. And since when did you aware that you need sleep? God, Sherlock, what's the harm of taking a meal that your body obviously needs?" John straightened his sit. He was ready to get out of the warm bed.

"Can you ask me, then, whether I am ready to look into any new problem, however trivial it may prove?"

John turned a sulky but amazed face upon his partner.

"You have a case?" John made expression as if his wildest dream finally came true. "But why you…needed me?"

"Too excited. Mycroft just called me while you're shopping. He needs a…leg."

"All right," _Oh Mycroft, my hero! _"Then you really need the eat. Come on!"

"I'm on a case, John."

"Will be. Now get up. You need to recharge your energy after we..." John blushed.

"John, I don't eat on a case… _Will be_ on a case. I need to prepare."

"But why not eat? Please, I'm concerning about your body."

"Because the faculties become refined when you starve them. Why, surely, as a doctor, my Dear John, you must admit that what your digestion gains in the way of blood supply is so much lost to the brain. I am a brain, John. The rest of me is transport. Therefore, it is the brain I must consider."

A silence for a brief moment.

"So you chose to take an activity which need a massive amount of energy instead of eat just to _refine_ and keeps your brain organized?" John stared blankly.

"That's not—"

"So you," John chuckled cold, "only did this just because you're considering of your brain. None other reason?"

"Sex actually boost brain growth, you know that, John?" Sherlock glanced at the man beside him. He saw John made unexplainable expression.

"No consideration to my side?" John's voice was almost like a whisper.

Sherlock was taken aback.

"I…" Sherlock Holmes didn't understand.

"So, just the sex, then." John heaved a long suffering sigh. John tried to speak nonchalantly, but Sherlock could point the hurt and disappointment carried in the voice.

Sherlock took a deep sigh and he sat up against the headboard, shoulder-to-shoulder with John.

"John…" He waited until the doctor turned his face toward him, while he himself stared at the wall before him. "Human, predictable. Complex but still predictable. But emotions are more sophisticate and delicate thing, which I never stop understanding human let their emotions rule them. John, you know this is something new to me. Not the discovery of the benefit sexual activities brings to my brain. But…oh God for the first time in my life, I don't know what happen to me. I _am_ trying to understand this. Since you, since you come into my life, everything happens in me seem novel. I feel alien to myself. You changed me."

Sherlock turned his face, now facing John.

"What is this, John, tell me. What is happening with me?"

John Watson blinked. Blimey, Sherlock Holmes was really naïve and oblivious! John gave the mentioned man incredulous look.

"What? John, are you mocking me with that look." Sherlock furrowed. It wasn't a question.

John still staring in disbelieve at Sherlock.

"John, I'm concerning about myself here. Have I gone insane? The next thing I'd probably think would be of why the whole bed of the ocean is not one solid mass of oysters, so prolific the creatures seem."

Then John burst into laugh. He could forgive the man this time.

_His brain made an excuse for his heart._

* * *

**II. Accidentally in FRAME**

The Scotland Yard sprang on to the two villains and hurled them flat upon their faces. Click sounds of handcuffs did their justice.  
John swung his body in disarray.

"Where's Sherlock?" His eyes searching the consulting detective in wild movement.

"He's chasing the other man that way!" Lestrade signaling his team to follow Sherlock chasing the escaped villain.

They ran into a mess of deserted harbor. Running separately in disarray as they'd lost the sight of Sherlock and the villain.

Somehow, John had a bad feeling about this. This was not any random ordinary villain they're dealing with. Sherlock couldn't do it this careless, chasing the dangerous brainy villain alone in stack of winding warehouses. Even if it had been planned. Past experiences had certainly not smoothed the asperities of the consulting detective's temper or his impatience. Couldn't he just wait for the Scotland and give them chance to do their job?

John ran into the harbor, in pursue of his close friend. Which way, he didn't know. The main road split into some ways. A trip in distorted harbor. He kept running here and there until finally he got a slight view of Sherlock's coat. He tried to chase him with all his remained strength. Once he stopped to curse at his weak leg, and continued running toward a warehouse.

When he entered the warehouse, John hardly settled in his breath before he was conscious of a thick, musky odour, subtle and nauseous. A thick, black cloud swirled before his eyes. A freezing horror took possession of him. The turmoil within his brain was such that something must surely snap. John tried to scream Sherlock's name and was vaguely aware of some hoarse croak which was his own voice, but distant and detached from himself. At the same moment, in some effort to find his friend, he broke through that cloud of despair and had a glimpse of Sherlock's face, white, rigid, and drawn with horror—the very look which John had seen upon the feature of the dead. It was that vision which gave him an instant of sanity and of strength. He dashed from the entryway, threw his arms round Sherlock, and together they lurched through the door, and an instant afterwards had thrown themselves down upon the dusty road and were lying side by side, conscious only of the glorious sunshine which was bursting its way through the hellish cloud of terror which had girt them in.

Slowly reality and consciousness returned in John's soul. He abruptly sat and thrown his attention toward the man that was still lying beside him.

"Sherlock! Sherlock are you alright? For God's sake, say that you're all right!" John shook Sherlock's shoulders. He placed his index and middle finger on Sherlock's neck, checking for pulse. When the man made eye contact, John inhaled deep and blew a gratitude toward God, wrapping Sherlock's neck with his hand.  
As he did so, some features of Scotland Yard ran toward them. One of them blew a whistle.

"Inside… But…wait... He t- threw strange toxic in the air…" Sherlock pointed his index finger toward the warehouse where the villain was hiding, breathing weakly.

John and Sherlock were looking with apprehension at each other to mark the last traces of that brief but terrific experience which they had undergone.

"You two all right?" Lestrade gestured medic team to check them. "Accurate prediction, Sherlock. He led you to their lodge there. Though, I didn't recall you said anything about the toxin."

One of John's grips was strongly clutching on Sherlock's coat, staring at the man with tremulous look. Sherlock blinked once and looked away.

* * *

John sat on his bed. Head down, cradled by both of his trembling hands. He had been like that for almost half an hour since they're back after noon that day to their flat from the hectic heroic battle of one daft git Sherlock.  
Downstairs was Sherlock with his violin playing a piece with many off tune noticed. They hadn't talked since they arrived home. John walked straight to his bedroom and Sherlock took his instrument.

The night had come and John made appearance to the kitchen. He boiled a kettle for a cup of tea. Then he sensed Sherlock's existence at the threshold. He didn't turn his head around to look at him. He just focused on the making of his tea.

"John,"

"Don't." A teaspoon of sugar paused midair, "Just…please, don't say anything right now." He put his hands on the worktop.

A silence filled the air.

And then in a moment it happened. Two arms wrapped around John's waist. Sherlock pressed his head on John's nape. He suddenly hugged John tightly from behind, pulling him back against his chest.

The tea man held his breath.

_I'm sorry._

_I was scared to death._

_I'm sorry._

_Never do that again!_

John turned around in Sherlock's embrace, slipping his own arms around Sherlock's waist and tucked his head below the pointy chin. They stood still in silence, savoring the first embrace they'd ever shared off bed.  
After amount of peaceful time, John looked up at Sherlock. The taller man was looking down right into John's eyes. John noticed the look was so vulnerable.

'_What would I do without you_' was written all on that raw look.

* * *

It never happened before; Sherlock tailed John into his bedroom and slept in the narrow space together.  
John found it rather sweet and adorable. Moreover when he saw the man laid his head on his shoulder with an arm on his waist, sleeping like a child. The endearment, however, lasted until that cozy midnight. Bottom on the cold floor, John made a face when Sherlock sabotaged all his space on the already narrow single bed.

"Bugger." He hopped up the bed and dropped his body onto Sherlock, pinching the dark haired man's nose.

Sherlock revolted and gasped for air.

"Good Heaven, John!" He tackled the laughed man down.

John was anticipating for a pillow on his face, only to find Sherlock's face hovering his.

"Huh?" John didn't have time to think of anything as he felt warmness on his lips. Sherlock was kissing him. Gentle and without a rush.

They pulled away until an act to catch a breath was needed.

"Midnight snogging? Sherlock, I didn't know you had it in you."

The consulting detective kissed his cheek, his jaw then his neck and then rested his head on John's throat and slumbered on top of the blushed man.  
John was speechless.

The next day came with a shimmer from their landlady Mrs. Hudson's visit. She brought a plate of appetizing apple pie. John with enthusiast swallowing the piece on the dine table while Sherlock was reading newspaper on the next chair. Mrs. Hudson was standing between their space and had a morning chat with them about the incoming Christmas.  
That's when the great Mycroft came in without invitation.

"Putting in weight again, I see?" Sherlock greeted him behind the newspaper without a glance.

"Lame, but still losing it, anyway. John," Mycroft greeted him, "still survive with the hellish brat, I see."

"I'm never bored." John plucked the pie from the fork.

"Mr. Holmes. Coming again, to send your little brother into another danger?" Mrs. Hudson held her hands before his torso.

"Oh, shut up, Mrs. Hudson." Mycroft greeted the rest of the resident in annoyance. He stood with his glossy stick several feet from the dine table.

"MYCROFT!" Sherlock and John barked simultaneously and furiously.

Mycroft looked at their angry faces glaring at him, then cringes and looked at Mrs. Hudson.

"Apologies."

" Thank you."

"Though do, in fact, shut up." Sherlock turned the paper.

Mrs. Hudson just rolled her eyes and made a way out back to her place.

"So," Mycroft glanced at John's empty chair, "A matter has come to light of an extremely delicate and potentially criminal nature, and in this hour of need, dear brother, your name has arisen." He raised his chin, looking directly at Sherlock through the newspaper.

"Why? You have a police force of sorts, even a marginally Secret Service. Why come to me?" Sherlock replied behind the paper.

"This is a matter of the highest security, and therefore of trust."

"And you don't trust your own Secret Service? Wait. Of course, so you've said before many times." John put his fork and looked at Mycroft.

"If you're so keen, why don't _you _investigate it?" Sherlock still gazing at whatever on the newspaper.

"No-no-no. I can't possibly be away from the office for any length of time –not with the NRA critic so… Well, you don't need to know about that, do you?" Mycroft smiled humorlessly in a clear message to forget what he just said as he saw John raised his eyebrows and Sherlock had lowered the papers. "Besides, a case like this, it requires… _legwork_." He grimaced in distaste.

Sherlock raised the newspaper back with an irritated look on his face.  
Mycroft stepped forward and put a folder on the table.

"Find the masterplan, Sherlock. Don't make me order you."  
"I'd like to see you try." Sherlock breathed in sharply through his nose.

"Think it over." Mycroft's tone lowered sounded more threatening. "Goodbye, John. See you _very_ soon."

Mycroft turned and reached for the doorknob. When he was about to leave the room, he paused, and turned back with a furrow on his brow.

"Are you two…?"

Sherlock raised his newspaper until it was obscuring his head.  
Mycroft smirked and left the room, hurried down the stairs.

"What?" John raised his eyebrows, looking at Sherlock, "What was he figuring out about us?"

"I'll leave you to your deductions." Sherlock folded the newspaper and walked toward his bedroom.

In a flash John saw a hint of pink on the dark haired man's cheeks.

The doctor made his brain to work. Mycroft, the seven years Sherlock's senior, had better powers of observation than his brother. He was Sherlock's superior in observation and deduction. So what did he and Sherlock share to possess to be necessarily noticed by him?  
Think, think. Mycroft, amused, them both, Sherlock blushed… Get it together… And C_lick!_

"Oh, bloody hell!" John put his forearm to his face, "Sherlock, he knew _something_ about us, didn't he?" John absently rubbed the back of his neck with his left hand. Whatever.

John came into Sherlock's bedroom.

"Look, he did say 'national importance'. You can't just ignore it."  
"I'm not ignoring it. Putting my best man onto it right now." Sherlock rose from his bed and stood.

"Right. Good." John nodded in satisfaction, and then looked at Sherlock in puzzlement. "Who?"

Sherlock pinned him with his piercing eyes.

" …Right. Me. When?" John was ready to take his jacket.

Sherlock walked toward him, keeping the eye contact.

In a blink of instinct, John ran out of Sherlock's room heading upstairs into his own bedroom.  
He had seen that mischief look in Sherlock's face for the past few months.  
He closed the door as he entered his bedroom and sat on bed catching his breath. Both hands clutching the edge of the bed tight.

Some reducing moment of rapid heartbeats later, John exhaled from his mouth. He reached for his desk and turned on the radio. A low tune of half playing 'One Love' of Ian Dury flew in the air. The song sort of irritated his nerve. The lyrics somehow reminded him of Sherlock and himself. So he turned off the radio.

He glanced at the table clock. It's quarter past ten.  
John sat down and opened his laptop. He hadn't written their last case on his blog.  
Because the case was to irritating. There was too much at stake, that bloody case. It almost cost Sherlock's life. Of course there had been many cases endangered the headstone consulting detective. But, it was different. If he was late one bit second, Sherlock could kiss goodbye to the world.

John slammed his laptop off with the time Sherlock click opened his door. The doctor rose up from his seat in surprise. The chair pushed noisily to the back.

Sherlock paused in his step, hand still on the doorknob. He had deduced John's state from the micro expression on the face at a glance and a treat to a laptop in sight.

"We're through this." Sherlock moved his right leg timidly and put it next to the left one, in the threshold line.

For a moment John didn't react nor blink. He stared at the man before him.

"Yes. We're through this." John made a quick check down on his feet and then looked faraway behind Sherlock's shoulder. He walked toward the door, grasped the doorframe and pulled the door. Sherlock's hand dismissed from the knob and fell to his side.

When john walked pass him, Sherlock grabbed his wrist, pulled the doctor and planted his lips on John's as he turned his head.

* * *

John awoken by the message alert from his phone on the nightstand. John flopped on to his elbow and took the phone, opened the message. There were two messages. One from Mycroft asking about Sherlock regarding the case. The other was from hospital, said that he was needed in full appearance for the next Friday ahead.  
Why there was always busy hospitalization activity every one week before Christmas?

He put back his phone on the nightstand. He turned to his left side. Watching the sleeping man contently. He blushed hard when he looked at the marks he left on some spots on the translucent bare skin.

John slid back into the cover, hissed in the process. He looked to his back. Skin scratched, some inches red lines came from sharp nails.  
He sighed. He had been pretty rough and treated Sherlock with anger. Sherlock in other hand accepted the raw treat understandably. He felt guilty but he had a suspicious that Sherlock enjoyed the roughness.

When John had settled back to the warmness, Sherlock turned to his side and threw an arm upon John's waist. The dark haired man snuggled closer and buried his head on the crook of John's neck.  
John inhaled deep. He hooked his left arm around Sherlock's waist while his right hand slid along Sherlock's arm slithered up until he reached the head and entwined his fingers with the damped curly hair.

Few strokes on his hair, Sherlock tightened his hold on John's body.  
The doctor smiled. He closed his affectionate eyes and kissed Sherlock's head.

* * *

Sherlock Holmes and his partner John Watson were in heated speed. They were running down the rocky ground, chasing the villain. Passing rapidly through the trees and into a small road which directed toward an old, gloomy building.  
As they jumped the remain of the broken gate, trying to speeding the villain that was running into the deserted building, Sherlock spoke aloud to John that was three feet behind.

"I think I know the answer, John!" Sherlock said breathlessly while he kept the speed.

"What?" John shouted back.

"What's happening with me!" Sherlock yelled as he jumped a stack of wood.

"What's the answer?" John pulled out his revolver as they entered the building.

"I've eliminated the impossible, I've tried to find any rational explanations from whatever remains. But," Sherlock stopped. He fast-checking around. And then he kicked his leg and ran toward the stairs attached in the middle of the dusty room, yelling "But love resists to be rationalized!"

John Watson abruptly stopped his feet. He looked up to the direction where Sherlock hopped two stairs at once of his run. His eyes wide opened. And then he continued the chasing following the former man ran upstairs with a wide smile on his face.  
He felt he could be overwhelmingly happy to get shot by the villain in that moment.

Wait. Maybe not.

"Sherlock!" John called, made the consulting detective stopped run and turned to him for two seconds.

When the doctor reached him, breathlessly, he inhaled deep and then grasped Sherlock's coat and pulled the taller man down.  
John Watson just smiled widely and stole a brief passionate kiss from Sherlock Holmes.  
Both men grinned and continued the chasing.

* * *  
-You've been Johnlocked-

* * *

Chapter Note: 'Frame' crime scene taken from The Adventure of the Devil's Foot. Mycroft's case referred to The Great Game (Sherlock BBC Series 1).


End file.
